PERSONAL COLUMN
Life with Uncle
GILLIAN FREEMAN
It took me three-quarters of an hour to wrap up the parcel for its subsequent pass- ing. This was my first children's party and the parcel was passed and torn to shreds in less than three minutes, the minuscule toy snatched from its final covering, fought over, broken and discarded.
It was summer, The guests, aged between five and seven, arrived at half past three. Impossible to start games (we essayed musical bumps) with the doorbell ringing and the ritual of present-giving generating envy, avarice and pride as the mini-mob rushed from playroom to hall and back again. In desperation, at ten to four, I offered tea. At four tea was over and by half past we had worked through the list of games and no one wanted to play any more, anyway. .I brought out the ice-creams and cut down the balloons. They asked politely for their going-home presents and an hour before the time of departure (it had seemed such a short time, a mere two and a half hours, when I had filled out the invitation cards), these being local children and therefore not fetched, they murmured 'Thank you for having me' and went home. As I watched them leave, one by one, knew I had failed as a hostess, that I could never manage alone again and that next time 1 would have to call in an Uncle.
The Uncle we employed had come to our notice by way of a leaflet. He gave out leaflets at the end of each successful party he attended, and his photograph decorated the front page. He was depicted as young and jolly, manipulating an animal puppet which was—it said inside—a favourite of all the kiddies, young and old. There was also a selection of extracts from letters he had received from ecstatically grateful mothers (they included an Honourable and an actress) who did not stint their praise.
As advised, I telephoned him well in advance to secure him for the special day. Even over the telephone he dispensed reassurance. He said he'd love to come to our party and that he would arrive while the children were having tea so that he could set up his entertainment without being dis- turbed. He said he would start the show at a quarter to five, so that the kiddies could go to the toilet beforehand because he didn't like being interrupted. He said he liked the grown-ups to come in at the beginning or not at all because popping in and out was distracting-for the kiddies as well as himself. I promised everything.
He was a pale young man (paler than his photograph suggested) with a maroon blazer and matching tie and the breezy manner of a holiday camp official. The kiddies responded at once. He marched them upstairs in a line, telling them that he was an engine and they were the carriages. He chuffed and whistled with evident pleasure,. and, in the way of trains, the noise became fainter and diminished. While I swept up the broken crisps and chipped smarties, clapping and laughter floated down to me. We would have asked him to come back the following year, but by that time (his leaflets proving so fruitful) all the children we knew had seen his act several times. So we looked around for another Uncle and found one who had a Punch and Judy show and a special reduction for anyone 'professional', He was an elderly Uncle and by the time he had set up his Punch and Judy kiosk, so breathless that he had to sit down. We offered him a cup of tea but he said he'd rather have something stronger later on. His foot stuck out under the striped tenting and the children pointed it out to one another excitedly as Judy flung the baby to Punch and Punch battered its head. The Uncle spent an unduly long time packing up. until we remembered the drink and he said he'd like a large scotch and if there was a Mummy going north would she be kind enough to give him a lift home.
Our last Uncle advertised in a newspaper. He entertained, the advertisement said, at weddings, parties and barmitzvahs, and for little more than we had paid before he undertook to organise the entire party and not merely the hour after tea. He offered films and conjuring and games and even the gifts required by the departing guests, which (like the special incantations and food and songs) are essential to the celebration rites perpetuated by the English middle classes for their young. 1 wrote to him. He wasn't free on the day suggested but offered another and we changed the party date. He seemed the answer to Mothers' Lib; all I had to do was provide the tea.
He arrived early and began to arrange his equipment in the playroom. He wore a shabby dinner jacket and there was a faded element about his appearance too, hair once sandy was now almost grey and he looked tired although his voice was banteringly bright. Because it was early the children were not yet dressed for the party and before they changed they went in to help Uncle prepare. I heard him welcome them. I heard him say, 'I can see your little vest!' Downstairs I set out the jellies and stuck sticks into the sausages the butcher bewilder- ingly calls 'chips'. One of the children came down. 'Uncle keeps kissing me,' she said.
During the conjuring I went in to watch. He didn't lay down rules like our Uncle number one. He was mid-trick. One of she little girls stood beside him, a proud helper. She held a scarf. He took it from her, flourished it in the air and miraculously it turned into a pair of miniature bloomers. He tied them round her waist and there was wild applause. Afterwards he apparently felt there was a need for an explanation although I hadn't asked for one. He talked rather fast.
'It's a great success, the knickers trick,' he said. 'I always do it, if you wondered why, when you came in, what was going on. I got the idea at a wedding you see, when I was doing a card trick. I realised the audience weren't concentrating on me at all, they were all looking at a corner of the hall and there,' (he paused) 'was a wee girl,' the was a Scot) 'squatting down and hold- ing up her knickers.' Later, one of the children from the party said, 'He sat down and held me between his knees. He said he was going to hypnotise me. He said, "You feel very warm and very happy." Honestly, 1 could feel his thing.' Odd Uncles turn up in the best regulated families and I am not making generalisa- tions, so before the Magic Circle puts a spell on me 1 want to make it clear that this happened some time ago and that I haven't seen that particular Uncle's advertisement lately. We gave up parties, however, and have birthday outings instead, although I am already anticipating the disc jockeys with. their mobile discotheques; not Uncles, 01 course—Big Brothers, perhaps?
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